


War is Over

by EliotRosewater



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas fic, Family, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-World War II, Survivor Guilt, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8747809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliotRosewater/pseuds/EliotRosewater
Summary: The Valkyrie never took flight. The war was over and the Allies won. Everyone went home. During Christmas in 1948, the past came knocking on Steve Rogers's door, and it brought a guest.





	1. Chapter 1

"I'll see you later tonight then," Peggy said.

"I won't be long," Steve said, leaning back toward her.

Peggy kissed his cheek and said, "That's what you say every year."

Laughter overrode the sound of the door closing. Steve pulled his jacket tighter around himself on reflex when the wind hit him. Cold wasn't something he felt so sharply anymore, but when he did feel it, he went right back to Bastogne. These days, when New York City slapped Steve in the face with its wind, it was reflex that made him pull his jacket tight, not necessity.

Down the steps and into the flow of foot traffic, Steve headed east. Dusk was just a few hours off, but the skies were grey. A few snowflakes were swirling around halfheartedly. There were already piles of dirty snow and cracked ice all over the place. Steve grabbed the arm of a man who slipped on a particularly tricky patch of ice; he kept his head down so the man wouldn't recognise him.

The subway was dingy and dark; it was homey. Steve took the train to Vinegar Hill. He got off there even though it wasn't his stop. Usually, he liked to walk a bit before he went in. It helped sometimes. And he always picked up a case of Schaefer at the same shop just off Plymouth. The beer was free, as it was every time Steve stopped by. The same attendant always handled the transaction and never said anything to Steve, even though Steve could tell the attendant recognised him.

The interaction had almost become part of the tradition.

Just for the hell of it, before he fully left Crown Hill, Steve swung down Sullivan Place to get a look at Ebbets Field. Even lying dormant in the winter, Steve could smell his childhood in the air. Laughter from two decades ago echoed up and down the streets.

"Wait 'til next year," he said to himself and smiled.

By the time Steve made it down to Flatbush, there were lights twinkling in all the windows, steam condensing on the glass. Snow was falling with more purpose now. His breath was a cloud in front of him. A few people on the street said hello to him the deeper he went into the old neighbourhood. Steve said hello back because these people knew _him_ and not what the war had turned him into.

There was a very familiar brownstone house that was on Steve's route, but he didn't go disturb the occupants. That was for tomorrow.

At the gates to Holy Cross, the attendant waved him in. Steve bowed his head in thanks and entered the cemetery, beer in hand. Here the walkways were well-cleared of snow and ice. It was quiet amongst all the stones, just the way Steve liked it. Being Captain America still had _some_ perks. Whistling to himself, Steve walked into the heart of the cemetery and made a left. He stopped all at once — no more whistling, no more footsteps, just the beer sloshing in their containers — when he saw two people standing before a stone. No one was supposed to be here. The attendants always closed the place just for him. 

The one closest to Steve looked over and made eye contact. It was a young woman with red hair, just a kid really. Even with the tall hat that reminded him of the Red Army, Steve could see the shock of colour her hair made in the white and grey place. Even from a distance, the sharp and starved look about her was plainly evident. Maybe she was one of those who lost a parent in the war and the family never recovered. The city was crawling with kids like that; Steve hated seeing them. 

The eye contact only lasted a second before the girl turned to her companion — a boy much taller than her, but just as dirty and waifish, if his silhouette was anything to go by — and whispered to him. Steve's enhanced hearing couldn't even pick up what she was saying, which annoyed him beyond reason. The girl's companion ducked his head, and she put an arm around his back. They turned as one away from Steve and walked off. After a few steps, the boy put his arm around the girl and pulled her close to his side.

Steve walked to the stone they'd been standing in front of — which just happened to be the one he'd come to visit. He watched the two others walk until he couldn't see them anymore. Neither of them looked back at him.

Still a little suspicious, Steve set down the case of Schaefer and opened it. Pulling out two bottles, he knocked the caps off both while wiping snow off of the little ledge at the bottom of the stone with his shoe. Steve put one of the bottles on top of the stone and sat down on the ledge, other beer in hand. He drank from the bottle and looked at the footprints the two other visitors had left in the snow.

"Who were they?" he said aloud. "You gettin' visitors that you're not tellin' me about?"

There was no answer, so Steve took another drink of beer. His face smiled on its own accord.

He said to the stone he was sitting against, "Remember your eighteenth birthday, Buck? You couldn't walk straight for a week."

And after a one-sided conversation that lasted ninety minutes and six beers, Steve said, "Well, I better be getting back to Peggy. We're gettin' up early to have breakfast with your folks tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Buck. I miss you."

Ten minutes after Steve left the cemetery, the starved couple came back to the headstone. The redheaded girl picked up the bottle of Schaefer Steve had left behind and sniffed at it. She held it out to her companion, but he shook his head. He picked up the bottle cap instead and slid it into a pocket in his jacket. They leaned close together and left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that all this is taking place at the end of 1948.

Peggy knocked on the door because Steve's hands were full of gifts wrapped in recycled paper. Stepping back after knocking, she smiled and squeezed Steve just above the elbow. Though it was their tradition to have Christmas breakfast with the Barnes family, it wasn't always easy. Steve did his best to smile back at her and mean it. The kids in the cemetery were still on his mind.

George Barnes opened the door and shouted his hello. "It's about time, huh? Come in, come in! It's cold enough to freeze the nuts off a bronze monkey out here!"

His wife was right behind him, and Winnie Barnes whacked her husband on the shoulder. "Be decent," she said.

Peggy was laughing. She moved inside and hugged Winnie before moving on to George. Steve felt his smile become sincere as he moved in behind Peggy. He shook George's hand.

"Mr Barnes," he said.

"Pfft," George said and waved a hand. "Please. You're a man, Steven! You can call me George! How many times do I gotta tell ya?"

"At least once more," Steve said.

George laughed and waved them deeper into the house. Peggy went eagerly after him and was asking about the girls. The place smelled terrific. It reminded Steve of being a kid again. Bing Crosby was warbling in the halls. Winnie was still at the front door with Steve; they caught each other's eye and smiled tentatively. They both felt the weight of Bucky's absence more acutely than the others; they carried it with them every day, wherever they went. It was especially heavy around the holidays.

"Merry Christmas," she said lowly to him. Her arms were out, requesting a hug.

Steve went to her and hugged her as tightly as he could with one arm. She smelled like safety and care, and he lifted her off her feet to thank her. Winnie made a squealing sound and swatted at his chest.

"Put me down, you hooligan," she said.

Steve obliged, kissing her cheek as he stepped back. "Merry Christmas, Ma."

Winnie blinked the excess water back from her eyes and flapped her hands. "Gimme those, Steve. I'll take them."

Never one to disobey his mother, Steve let Winnie take the pile of gifts he'd carried all the way from Manhattan. They went toward the sitting room after George and Peggy. Steve was glad to be away from all the framed portraits staring at him in the hallway. If he looked at that little white flag with its lonely blue star for too long, his eyes got misty.

A small tree stood on an end table beside George's armchair; that was where Winnie set Steve and Peggy's stack of packages. There were already a few gifts clustered around the table. Steve knew the Barnes family hadn't gotten a large tree since all the kids moved out in 1939. The youngest, Cecelia, had become a nurse and served in a field hospital out in the Pacific.

Steve watched Winnie bustle back to the kitchen. The scent of cooking bacon and sausages wafted out when she moved around quickly. Peggy was eating macaroons and looking at George's gun collection. The day they were introduced, Steve knew that he was seeing something special. Sometimes he thought George liked Peggy more than he liked his own daughters.

"Where're the girls?" Steve said to no one in particular.

Winnie answered, "They're wrangling the kids! You know how they are, little devils."

He snorted a little, but the front door opened at the same time. Voices immediately filled the house, drowning out Bing Crosby.

"Which one are you?" George yelled.

"Papa!" a child's voice answered.

"Is that Cece?" Winnie shouted from the kitchen.

The noise made Steve relax. Peggy turned to smile at him and shake her macaroon.

"It's me and Joe!" a voice Steve knew belonged to Becca answered.

No more than a second later, she appeared in the sitting room with her husband, Joe, behind her. Becca had her arms filled with a baby, and Joe had a hand on the three-year old girl. The girl squirmed in Joe's hold until he let her go. She made a beeline for George.

"Papa!" she shouted.

George caught the little girl and swung her up. "Why, that's Shirley!"

Steve got up and hugged Becca. "Got your hands full, huh?"

She sighed and said, "More than full. Here, take him. It's Uncle Steve, Jaime, he wants to hold you."

Despite being a little flustered, Steve accepted his godson with ease. He nodded to Joe since he no longer had a hand to offer. Joe nodded back and went over to George and Peggy.

"He should be good today," Becca said. "He was up all night cryin'. All tired out now."

Gesturing to the couch with his chin, Steve said, "Why don't you sit down? You must be exhausted."

"You said it." She flopped into a seat on the couch. Steve followed and sat beside her. The baby made a noise of malcontent but quieted right back down. Becca said, "I swear, namin' that baby James was a big mistake."

"I coulda told ya that!" George said. "The name means trouble!"

Steve raised his eyebrows at Becca. "Shoulda listened to your elders."

"Too late now," she said. Becca's whole body went still and she stared intensely at Steve. "It _is_ too late, isn't it?"

That drew a laugh from the whole room.

"It's too late, dear," Joe said. "Maybe Jaime'll be the one to reverse the curse."

Steve spent a while cradling baby Jaime and watching Shirley try to instigate playtime with George and Peggy. The little girl was impatient to receive her gifts. Becca eventually got up and went to help Winnie in the kitchen. No matter how much she whinged about being exhausted, Becca hated being stationary. 

The first Christmas Steve and Peggy had with the Barnes family had been a hilarious disaster. It was why Peggy was no longer allowed to "help" prepare anything in the kitchen. She was restricted to table setting and dish-washing; Steve always offered to give her a hand with that, too. He had a sneaking suspicion that Peggy did some things badly so that people wouldn't ask her to do them anymore. There was nothing wrong with that besides the fact that Steve hadn't thought of it first.

Cecelia and her husband Eddie turned up at the same time as Betty, her husband Charlie, and their little girl Trudy. Shirley shrieked at her cousin; she didn't have to fight so hard for someone to play with her. They stole strands of tinsel off the tree and got it tangled in each other's hair. It ended with the two girls getting stuck together, slapping each other, and hugging through their tears of mirth. 

Steve bounced baby Jaime and marvelled at the family he had. It struck him over and over that he was lucky to have this, but he always thought that it could have been perfect if Bucky were here to see how beautiful and just plain happy his family had become. Jaime screeched to get Steve's attention. When he had it, he looked at Steve with Bucky's eyes and squealed with laughter.

Steve laughed back at the baby and looked around at his family again. Beside him, Peggy poked Jaime in the chest and let him hold her finger. She caught Steve's eye and nudged him.

"What do you think?" she said.

"About what?"

"Little ones."

Heat flooded Steve's cheeks at the same time that his heart leapt. A smile bent his face and he said, "Of our own?"

Peggy laughed like the silver bells that hung from the doorknobs, and Jaime made a noise of approval. "What do you think?"

Steve looked at the baby and said, "I think you two are ganging up on me."

They ate breakfast at the big table in the dining room. It was loud and warm and revolved around good food. Compliments were showered on Winnie's food nonstop; there were plenty of words for Becca's help, too. Steve ate until he literally didn't think he could handle another bite. The kids talked loudly and often, their impatience to get to the gifts by the tree was infectious. Laughter was abundant and smiles came easy.

Steve kept Peggy close while they watched the children fall on the gifts like ravenous wolves. The idea of having just one of his own . . . Steve's head felt so full of excitement and anxiety at the idea. (He wished he could talk to Bucky about it.) The morning wore on while Steve talked with Joe, Eddie, Charlie, and George. Whatever story Peggy was telling the women, it made them bust up in laughter often. Steve could imagine a number of ridiculous stories Peggy could tell about work.

By noon, Steve and Peggy had their coats on, ready to head back to Manhattan. They hugged the kids and said good-bye to the girls and their husbands. Steve shook George's hand and called him Mr Barnes again. Winnie was picked up off her feet again, and she patted Steve's face when they had relatively privacy, saying, "Good boy."

An Army portrait on the wall smiled at the two of them, at Steve and Winnie. It was Steve's turn to blink the excess water from his eyes; the portrait was next to that white flag with the blue star that Steve couldn't look at for too long.

"Merry Christmas," Steve called once more as he was halfway out the door.

"Tell us how Stark's party is!" Becca shouted back.

"Will do," Steve said through his laughter.

He shut the door.

Peggy was already down the stoop and on the sidewalk. She held her hand out, and Steve took it.

"I've a few of those macaroons and the biscuits _and_ the muffins in my purse, if you want some," she said.

"You're like a squirrel, you know that?" he said. "I've never met anybody that sneaks as much food out of parties as you do."

Peggy looked flattered. "Wait'll you see what I get from Howard's," she said through a bite of muffin.

Steve put his arm around Peggy. He just loved her a lot.

Across the street from the Barneses' brownstone, two hungry-looking people sat on the fire escape of a tenement building. From their vantage point, they had an excellent view into the front windows. The girl with red hair nudged her companion in the ribs and smiled. He gave her a watery smile in return and took a moment to wipe his gloved hands over his eyes. They each ate a roasted chestnut out of the bag they'd stolen last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	3. Chapter 3

"We really gotta do this?" Steve said. "Last year it was a circus."

"You know he'll be abhorrent if we don't come," Peggy said. She sat beside Steve and handed him a leftover bottle of Schaefer. The alcohol no longer did anything for him, but Peggy knew the taste made him feel like himself. It also reminded him of Barnes; that usually cheered Steve up. A few times it did the polar opposite, but Peggy knew how to recognise and avoid doing the wrong thing.

Now, it was a good thing. Steve was fiddling with his old war compass. Peggy's face peered out from inside, but it had been Barnes who had gifted the device to Steve in the first place.

 _I've got the two of you in one_ , Steve used to say on bases and battlefields before it all went wrong.

Steve made a grumpy sound now.

"Howard's a giant child," Peggy said. "It's easier to simply appease him."

"Shirley's less unreasonable than Howard, and she's three."

"I know, dear."

"Trudy on the other hand," Steve said with a smile.

Peggy smiled, too. The last time they'd babysat for Betty and Charlie, it had seemed likely that the Third World War would break out over a bit of chocolate.

"We'll have to get her in a room with Howard someday."

It made Steve laugh. "Can you imagine Howard with _kids_? That'd be a disaster."

Peggy made a face of consideration and folded herself into Steve's side. "We can only imagine the type of spawn he'd produce."

The conversation lulled, and Steve said, "Were you serious? Back at George and Winnie's?"

"I'm certainly open to talking about it." She watched Steve bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from smiling. Peggy saw an opportunity and took it: "But _only_ if you come to Howard's and don't moan about it the whole time."

Steve took less than a second to consider and then said, "Deal."

The two of them leaned into each other, sofa hugging them on either side. A few snowflakes were swirling outside the window; it was impossible to tell if it was new snow or just the wind blowing around yesterday's dusting. Peggy had never said it aloud, but snowflakes reminded her of all those paratroopers who'd been shot and killed before they ever touched ground. She remembered seeing those fatigue-clad corpses flop on the ground, white canopies collapsing over them, hiding their bodies from the eyes of heaven. The thought didn't bother her like it used to, but it was always there. It was like Steve and the memory of Barnes — on a much, _much_ smaller scale.

Peggy checked to make sure Steve wasn't looking at the Medal of Honour. He'd tried to give it to Winnie Barnes when he finally got home from Europe. From what Peggy heard, Winnie had refused the decoration adamantly; the offer had really upset her. George said Winnie had cried worse than when she had gotten the news about her son being lost. Steve _still_ apologised about it sometimes. The two of them talked a lot, Steve and Winnie Barnes. 

Why Steve didn't put the damned medal in a cupboard somewhere to collect dust, Peggy didn't know. She knew he hated to look at it.

Steve's face contracted, and Peggy feared the worst. But this was what he said: "We'll see Stark on New Year's Eve. Do we _really_ have to go to his Christmas party, too?"

"Oh, Steve," Peggy said and patted his chest. "Go change when you're done with the beer." Time was running out if she wanted to redo her hair, too. 

He took a small, slow swig.

"Angie'll be there," she said. "You love talking to Angie."

"Oh, alright," he said. "Hate to leave her there all on her own. Not that she can't handle him."

Peggy smiled at a memory of Angie "handling" Howard Stark. If only the Army had recruited Angie Martinelli. It never would have lasted as long as it did. 

"Oh, the crowd always finds her," Peggy said. "She _is_ famous now." The look she gave Steve made his cheeks turn pink. It was a lovely colour, and Peggy never grew tired of seeing it.

"She did it all on her own," he said.

"Yes, of course," Peggy said. "But it was awfully kind of you to put her in contact with those Hollywood people."

Steve's colour deepened. Just _lovely_. "I'm just glad something good came from those movies."

"Nonsense. According to Timothy Dugan, _loads_ of good came from Captain America's movies."

"He just says that because he likes laughing at me."

It kept him grounded — never mind that Steve didn't need grounding. Not before the war, and  _certainly_ not after it. 

"Laughter is a gift to men at war," she said.

Steve gave her a flat look, and she gave him her most patronising smile in return.

He said, "Yeah, well." After a pause, he said, "You know if he'll be there? Dum Dum? Or any of the others?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "I'm fairly sure Dugan will be there. Jim, too. I don't think Dernier or Falsworth will make it."

"Gabe?"

Peggy hummed softly as she thought. "I guess we'll have to go to Howard's and find out." Tapping his bottle of Schaefer, she said, "Go on, drink up."

When Steve held her tight to his side, Peggy thought she'd never be more content than she was then. Steve drank deeply from his bottle and then let his head rest on hers. Their breathing aligned. Peggy felt Steve's lips in her hair and closed her eyes. A little part of her wanted to skip Howard's party — Steve was right, they would see him in a few days for the New Year's party — she just wanted to stay in with Steve. To revel in the warmth of each other while it was so cold outside; it was a cosy thought. Peggy wished that his beer would last forever.

In the alleyway between Steve and Peggy's building and its neighbour, two people were huddled together. It wasn't snowing, but wind was cutting them down to their bones. The smaller of the two reached a trembling hand out and wiped snowflakes out of her companion's eyelashes. His eyes fluttered open and then fell closed a few seconds later when he realised it was just her. She put her hand on his abdomen. The hollow growl of his stomach made both of them vibrate. Like wolves howling at the moon, her stomach answered the call.

Wind tugged on the loose strands of her hair. Thin red streamers flapped in her line of sight. She weaselled one arm around her companion's back and shoved the other one between his ribs and left arm. She felt his arms come around her, too. They clung to each other, pressed their skeletons as close together as they could manage. But it wasn't close enough to dampen the vibrations caused by their shivering and their howling, aching bellies.

They were so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Steve was puzzled over Peggy's reluctance to remove her coat once they got to Howard's party.

"It's cold," she said when Steve raised his eyebrows.

The chill _had_ followed them inside.

Steve said, "You know there'll be about one thousand people in there. You won't need your coat in a few minutes."

After a time, she surrendered her coat to the attendant. She was just adjusting her blouse and hair when she opened her bag and said, "Oh, I don't believe it."

"What?" Steve was suddenly tense and on high alert.

"I forgot to take Winnie's bakes out of my purse."

The strain bled from Steve's muscles. He allowed himself a sound that was half laugh and half sigh.

"Don't they say a whole buncha trees get planted because squirrels forget where they bury their acorns and nuts?"

Peggy held her purse up. "I'd hit you with this if it wasn't filled with biscuits." She lowered it slowly and held it carefully out toward the attendant. In her most dangerous agent tone, she said, "I'll know if something's missing."

Giving the attendant a sympathetic look, Steve steered Peggy toward the entryway of the ballroom. The building was owned by Howard Stark though the name didn't reflect it; locals called it the Crown on Broadway even though the building wasn't _actually_ on Broadway. Most believed the 'crown' part was because of Howard's ego. Steve heard he'd named the building after something from Canada. The building had thirty floors. There was the ballroom and auditorium on the ground floor — which was actually three stories high — but the place was mostly rentals, hotel rooms and tenements. The top four floors were (one of) Howard's private residence(s).

Steve thought the whole place was garish.

"Can't believe I did that," Peggy was grumbling.

A smile bent Steve's face as they entered the ballroom. The place was well lit for a change. Little circular tables with white tablecloths dotted half the room. A band was playing on the other side, dance floor already crowded with swinging bodies.

Steve retrieved both of them drinks without garnering too much attention. The bartender was only making cocktails that had obscene names based on holiday phrases. Picking two of the most mild-sounding drinks, Steve returned to Peggy.

"Ready to make the rounds?" she said. Her face looked surprised when she sipped the cocktail. "This is good."

"Let's do this," he said. "Howard first; get him out of the way."

Peggy sipped the drink again while she slid her other hand into the crook of Steve's elbow.

"Cousin Peggy," Howard said in lieu of hello when they approached him. Peggy let Howard hug her with teasing stiffness. "And Patient Zero!"

"Mr Stark," Steve said.

"Here, turn and smile."

Steve did as he said, and a flash blinded him. He could just make out a photographer waving a hand and wandering away.

"You've press here now?" Peggy said.

"Of course not," Howard said. "What fun is a party with people watching you all night? Nah, that's security."

Steve and Peggy's eyebrows had identical pitches.

"If they only took pictures of everyone else, it'd be suspicious." The expression on Howard's face wasn't one of innocence. "Hey, on the upside, we'll have professional pictures! Send 'em out to family!"

"Why do you need covert security, Howard?" Peggy said.

When she used that tone, everyone knew they were caught. Steve's eyes bounced between the two of them.

"Well," Howard said, "I may be seeing an old friend tonight. A friend that I used to work with but abruptly stopped working with."

"Bloody hell, have you put all these people at risk for spontaneous combustion?" Peggy said.

"No, of course not. Peggy, doll—"

"Call me doll one more time and see what happens."

Howard pinched the bridge of his nose and said to Steve, "You deal with this _every day_?"

Steve sipped his drink and said, "I don't call her doll. Or invite my enemies to parties filled with hundreds of innocent people."

"Don't you two see? He hates _me_! He wouldn't hurt all you — he only hates _me_!"

"You've invited us all here to be your human shield," she said flatly.

Boy, Howard and Peggy sure were something when they got together.

"Well, when you say anything like that it sounds like a bad idea."

"I'll see you later then," she said. "Steve, shall we?"

"OK," he said and accepted her hand onto his arm. Peggy steered both of them back into the crowd. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, Steve heard her mumbling, "First the bakes and now this."

A few steps past a table supporting a scale replica of the Crown on Broadway made from gingerbread, they were stopped.

"English!"

Peggy swivelled. "Angie, is that you?"

"Sure is!"

And, sure enough, she appeared between bodies of the crowd, face red and smiling. Steve stepped out of the way of their reunion. Angie turned to him after she released Peggy and slapped his chest with the back of her hand.

"Long time, no see, Captain," she said. "You two are lookin' good, as always."

"Thank you," Peggy said. "How was your Christmas — before you came here."

"Real swell. You wouldn't believe how big my family has gotten in the last year." Angie rolled her eyes. "Suddenly all of New York is my cousin."

The three of them spoke of the type of year they'd had, where they'd travelled (for work), who they'd met, and how many times they'd punched someone. Angie was just telling them about a script she'd recently been given for a Howling Commandos film when a fourth person jumped into the conversation.

"Someone talkin' about me?" Dum Dum Dugan said.

"Sheesh, Tim, it's been ages!" Angie said, completely fine with being interrupted. She hugged him with enthusiasm. "Ya hear, they want me to be Peggy in a picture about you all!"

"That so?" Dum Dum said. He quickly hugged Peggy with one arm. "They gonna have Rogers play himself?"

Steve made an exasperated sound. "I'm never living those down."

Dum Dum agreed, "Never."

For a regular human man, Dum Dum's hug strength was incredible. The embrace was brief, but it was warm and sincere. They'd been places together, seen things together. They'd grieved together. When Dum Dum and Steve parted, they shook hands.

"Cap," Dum Dum said.

"Corporal," Steve said.

"So what's all this talk?" he said. "No one told me that Hollywood's makin' a movie about me."

"It's probably because you stink," Angie said.

From there, more and more people joined their group to talk. Some people Steve knew from the war and the S.S.R., but most he'd never met before. Peggy had quite the job making introductions. By the end, Steve felt like he'd met Peggy's entire department. He was able to slip away toward the bar with Dum Dum, Jim Morita, and Gabe Jones after ninety minutes of chatting with strangers.

"Listen, ace," Jim said to the bartender, "I ain't got time for your drinks with stupid names. Just gimme five glasses of the good stuff, huh?"

It was effective: They got five tumblers of whisky. They each held a glass, and the fifth sat on the bar in the middle of their huddle.

Dum Dum held his glass aloft. "To Bucky."

"Bucky," the rest of them echoed. Their glasses clinked together with the unclaimed fifth. Frenchie and Monty would be in New York for New Year's, and all of them would do this again.

Later, after Peggy had hidden nearly half the gingerbread replica in her dress, after Dum Dum won a kiss from Angie, after Jim got Colonel Phillips to _laugh_ , after Peggy's friend from work, Daniel Sousa, tripped Howard with his crutch (on purpose) — after all of this, Steve and Peggy had a few dances.

During a slow one, Steve leaned close and said, "I can feel something at your waist."

Peggy tried to make a coy face, but amusement broke it. "That'll be the fudge," she whispered.

Kissing her hair and laughing softly, Steve said, "I love you."

"Of course you do."

The smile that bent Steve's face might as well have been the sun shining. Just a little to the side, Gabe was dancing with Angie. He caught Steve's eye and shook his head, smiling. Steve was about to make a face back when something caught his eye and his whole body went rigid. Peggy tripped over his toes and caught herself.

With quiet urgency, she said, "What is it?"

But Steve had blinked and whatever he had thought he'd seen was gone. His muscles thawed.

"Nothing. I just — I thought I saw — . . ." Steve started shifting his feet again, a halfhearted attempt at dancing. "It's nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come one, come all. Warm your hands around my Christmas story dumpster fire.

The party lost momentum gradually, and Howard invited intimate guests up to the residence via Edwin Jarvis.

"Where ya been all night, huh, Mr Jarvis?" Angie said while they were all stuffed in the lift.

"Oh, Mr Stark kept me busy."

"The special guest?" Dum Dum said with wiggling eyebrows.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"No casualties, I take it," Peggy said.

Jarvis made a tight face. "None but my Christmas night, Ms Carter."

"Give Ana my apologies."

"Yes, of course."

Angie spoke up suddenly, "Hey, how come no one calls you Mrs Rogers, English? You guys got more problems than you let on?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I actually never really saw a point to it."

"Then what'll the kids be called?" Jim Morita asked.

Steve and Peggy exchanged glances.

"I'll let you know after we've decided," she said.

There was a whistle from Dum Dum. "You guys got something you wanna tell us?"

Another exchange of looks. Steve said, "We plead the fifth."

"Too bad a few more drinks won't loosen those lips," Dum Dum said.

"Not his, but _hers_ maybe." Jim pushed Peggy's shoulder playfully.

"How dare you suggest such a thing," Peggy said. "Besides, Steve would never let such a thing happen to me."

Steve nodded; he was only half-listening. He kept thinking he saw faces moving in his peripheral. It would be good to have his mind on something else. When the lift chimed, Jarvis led them all out into a den. An enormous tree dominated the space. The room smelled strongly of pine. The neighbouring buildings were framed nicely in the windows, and it made all of them feel warmer to see the snow outside and know that they were all inside with each other.

"That's not real!" Peggy said of the tree. She and Angie approached it and brushed their fingers over the needles. A powdery approximation of snow covered their fingers.

"Ain't that somethin'," Angie said.

Steve, Dum Dum, Gabe, and Jim moved over to an arrangement of couches and armchairs. It looked like a fireplace should have been in the centre of it all, but there was only a radio, bookshelves, and a coffee table filled with desserts and nuts. Steve hoped Peggy didn't see the food and try to steal even more of it. You'd think the two of them were starving the way she kept sneaking things.

"Can I get anyone anything? Drinks perhaps?" Jarvis said.

"C'mon, sit!" Dum Dum said. "You've been workin' all night, Ed! Sit with us and complain about Stark. It's good for camaraderie."

Angie came over and hip checked Jarvis. "Yeah, you been doin' Stark's biddin' all night. Take a load off. It's Christmas, for cryin' out loud."

She and Peggy sat together on the sofa between Steve and Gabe. Internally, Steve made an exasperated sigh when Peggy spied the nuts on the coffee table.

"You're all being ridiculous," Jarvis was saying.

Jim said, "If you want somethin' to do so badly, wanna get me some coffee?"

Jarvis actually looked relieved. "I'd be happy to! How do you take it, Private Morita?"

"Black as my heart, ace."

"Well then. Anyone else?"

"Yeah, now that you say it, I'll take one, too," Angie said. "I take it Irish."

"Ho, ho!" Dum Dum said. "Put me down for one o'those, too!"

When asked, Steve, Peggy, and Gabe all refused.

After he'd gone, Dum Dum sat forward in his chair and said, "You know, I always thought there was something between us, Martinelli."

Angie made a funny sound and waved her hand. "In your dreams, Tim. Ha!"

Steve, Jim, and Gabe laughed.

Gabe said, "Bit harsh, huh, Ang?"

"Nah, I keep hearin' he was part of some fancy-shmancy unit called the Howling Commandos. He can take it."

"Nothin' like havin' your heart broken by another pretty New Yorker," Dum Dum said. "Right, Peggy?"

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Jim said, "Don't act like that! We all heard the story, _and_ we all saw Lorraine here with that John of hers."

It was always amusing to bring up the Pvt Lorraine story. Steve always went red as a rose and Peggy got huffy refusing to admit that she'd been upset by it. This subject was teased for a few minutes before a very loud klaxon began wailing. Every last muscle in Steve's body went taunt. There was a crash from the somewhere off the room they were all sitting in. Before knowing it was happening, Steve found himself on his feet and reaching for the holster that held his Colt — which hadn't been there since 1945. Peggy was standing beside him, too.

The alarm only went off for a few seconds, but it was long enough. Jarvis appeared in the room looking flustered.

"Ms Carter, if you don't mind, would you come with me?"

"What's goin' on?" Angie said.

"Stark's old friend?" Jim said.

Jarvis shook his head. "Ms Carter, please."

Peggy went to Jarvis. Steve watched her go until — once she and Jarvis were in the lift, Dum Dum said, "Is someone outside?"

Steve whirled around and looked out the glass door that led to the balcony. He swore — he _swore_ he saw a face, an impossible face . . .

"Hey," Steve shouted at the balcony. The face disappeared from the window; Steve was running for it. Dum Dum and Gabe were right behind him, leaving Angie confused on the sofa with Jim.

Throwing the door open, a blast of cold flew into Steve's face. It took his breath away, freezing his lungs. There was nothing. Steve looked left. He looked right. He looked down. He looked up, and he saw a body sliding along the sheer face of the building.

"Hey!" he shouted.

The wind was so strong that it tore the words away, but it was clear that the body was moving faster. Steve jumped and caught the ledge above with his fingertips. He looked to the escaping body — in profile, it looked so thin, like the wind ought to rip it off the building without breaking a sweat — and saw that it was at the corner of the building. It jumped into thin air.

"No!" Steve shouted.

His fingers uncurled from the ledge and he dropped down to the balcony. Gabe, Dum Dum, Jim, and Angie had congregated just inside the glass door.

"What's—" Jim said, but Steve shoved them out of the way and ran toward any door that would give him a view of the adjacent street.

That particular room turned out to be a bedroom with more of those huge windows. Steve flattened himself to the glass and looked as far down as he could. Nothing. The space between the Crown on Broadway and the one next door was bigger than the alleys in Steve's neighbourhood; he couldn't see down into it that well. The Crown on Broadway was taller than the next, but Steve couldn't see anything on the roof. His hand slammed with frustration on the window. Cracks spread like spider webs. He thought he could hear high-pitched wind sliding between the new faults.

"Cap," said a voice from the doorway.

Steve turned.

Jim said, "There's a room with another balcony down the hallway here."

That was all it took from him to go bursting into the room. The others were already gathered on the balcony. Steve gripped the railing and nearly bent double over it. It was too dark to see well, but Steve didn't have ordinary eyes. There was no body lying dead in the alley. There was no body on the next roof. The body was gone.

"What'd you see?" Gabe said.

Steve straightened up but kept his hands tight on the railing; he needed the support.

"Steve?" Angie said. One of her hands touched his spine, and she came to stand in his sight. "Ya alright?"

His head nodded on its own. "I'm fine."

"What was it?" Dum Dum said.

Eyes closed tight, Steve said, "You were right. There was someone on the balcony." He couldn't bring himself to say which face he'd seen. It was preposterous. They'd all make that face at him like they had right after it had all gone wrong.

"What happened to 'em?" Jim said. A pause and then, " _Oh_."

Angie's hand patted once on Steve's back. "Hey, why don't we go back inside, huh? Steve, let's go inside, get warmed up."

He let her steer him back inside and into the den. They all sat.

Dum Dum said, once they were all sitting, "You get a look at him?"

Neither confirmation nor affirmation was forthcoming. Steve felt stupid just thinking it.

"Hey, you didn't see nothin' down there," Gabe said calmly. "He probably made the next roof. Took off runnin'."

"Tells us what you saw," Jim said.

Now Steve's head shook. "Saw someone out on the balcony. Went out there. Saw him climbing the outside of the building. Jumped when he got to the edge. Gone."

"Gee, what a Christmas," Angie said.

But Dum Dum was giving Steve the look. Damn him. Damn the war for making men know each other better than they knew themselves.

It was kind when Dum Dum said, "Think it had anything to do with those sirens?"

Peggy popped back to the forefront of Steve's mind. "Where'd she go? Where's Peggy?"

They found that the lift was locked and unresponsive to the call button. After a little bit of searching, they found a door that they were confident led to the stairwell. But it was locked tight. Steve was just about to go through it the hard way when they heard the ding of the lift. Four people got off. Thank God, Peggy was one of them. 

"Get a load of this!" Howard said, jabbing a finger over his shoulder. "We caught a thief!"

Jarvis was behind Howard, and he had a firm hold on a skinny, struggling girl with long red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	6. Chapter 6

A low whistle from Dum Dum was the only sound in the room.

"The hell is goin' on?" Jim said.

"Has something happened here?" Peggy said.

"Steve saw someone jump off the edge of the building," said Angie.

" _What_?"

The girl's head jerked up. Her eyes went to the windows. Steve felt frozen while the rest of the world moved too fast. Dum Dum was briefly explaining what had happened. If he concentrated, Steve could feel Peggy watching him.

"So you're not working alone, are you?" Howard said after turning to face the girl. Her face was hard and she stared right back at him. It was impossible to guess her age. Her body was straight and flat, but the roundness of childhood was missing from her face. She could have been fourteen. She could have been twenty-five.

"Don't taunt, Howard," Peggy said.

"How exactly did you pick this kid up?" Jim said.

Jarvis interrupted, "Might I suggest we all return to the den before the conversation continues?"

"Don'tcha have all your conversations in hallways?" Angie said with a forced-light smile.

Steve watched the redheaded girl size up Angie. The girl jerked in Jarvis's hold when they all started moving back to the den. It looked a little too calculated to be sincere, Steve thought. He caught Peggy's eye and knew she'd spotted the same thing.

Resettled around the coffee table — Jarvis held the girl beside Howard's seat, both of them standing. Something beyond Steve's control kept making him glance hopefully toward the balcony.

Gabe said, "So what's the story?"

Howard shifted in his seat. Clearing his throat, he said, "You may have heard that I was planning on meeting an old friend—"

"We know," almost the entire room said.

A goofy smirk twisted Howard's moustache. "Alright, alright. Well, we had our meeting and it didn't go so hot. He's very unreasonable — and you know how the Soviets haven't gotten over the whole Manhattan Project thing."

Steve didn't even want to _think_ about the Manhattan Project.

"What exactly were you speaking with a Soviet scientist for anyway?" Dum Dum said.

"Well, like I said, we did some work together. He's under the delusion that I used the tech from one of our joint projects in something new I've got in the works."

Peggy said drily, "Which is what?"

Howard looked delighted that she'd asked. "I've developed an electric pulse amplifier and converter. It's one unit — great stuff. It can take an organic signal and have it drive a mechanism! My old friend thinks I've used data from a study we did on actuation in the new design. So now he thinks he's entitled to the amplifier."

" _Did_ you use the actuation study?" Peggy said.

The look on Howard's face made words redundant.

"Oh, bloody hell, Howard."

"Just listen," he said. "The meeting went south, right? A little bit after he storms out, I realise the key to my lab's missing. I can't have unauthorised people in my lab. That's when I heard about someone sneaking around the doors." He threw a finger at the girl.

"You found the key on her?" Gabe said.

"Uh, no. Not exactly. She must have handed it off to her accomplice. My old _buddy_ was distracting me while the two of them stole my technology!"

None of that sounded right to Steve.

"How d'you know she ain't another guest?" said Angie.

Howard made a face. "My staff never would have let anyone dressed like _that_ in here, invitation or not."

"You said you didn't find the key on her?" Dum Dum said. "You can't prove she did anything then."

The girl swayed in Jarvis's hold.

"She was trying to leave with Peggy's purse!" Howard said. Pink was rising in his cheeks. "Even if she didn't steal the key, she broke in here and tried to steal from my guests. And you shoulda seen her fight once we realised she was stealing. No regular bum knows how to fight like that."

"That why you called Peggy down?" Jim said. "You couldn't take the ninety-pound kid?"

"Ninety-pound kids can pack a punch, right, Cap?" Dum Dum said with a wink.

Steve smiled just for a second with half of his face. He said, "I don't think she was after your inventions, Howard."

The girl had green eyes; they were watching Steve carefully. She staggered a step. It wasn't as calculated as before.

"Then she was going to steal Peggy's purse, probably to sell it—"

Steve shook his head and picked the purse in question up and out of Peggy's lap. He opened it to reveal all of Winnie Barnes's baked good and snacks. "She's just hungry," Steve said.

As if on cue, the girl's eyes rolled in her head and her legs buckled. Jarvis said something along the lines of "good heavens" and re-gripped the girl before she slumped to the floor. Gabe jumped up and went to help.

"Get her on the couch," he said.

Together, the two of them got her there, and Gabe covered her with a blanket that was folded over the back of the couch. Steve caught Peggy's eyes and asked silently if she thought the girl was faking. The look on Peggy's face indicated that she was unsure but tended toward thinking it was an act.

"The building's on lockdown," Howard said lowly. "Most of the guests have left. Security's checking everyone else as they leave, and they're sweeping the place for any more lurkers."

"Is there anything warm we can give her to eat?" Steve said. A few odd looks came his way. "I have a few questions for her; don't want her to pass out again."

Jarvis straightened. "I'll fix something."

After he'd left, Peggy got up and perched on the couch beside the girl. Without fear or hesitance, she put her hand on the girl's forehead. A critical sound came from deep in Peggy's chest. She continued to touch the girl's face and then fished her wrist out from under the blanket.

Peggy looked up at Steve and said, "You recognise her?"

The whole room turned to him.

"She was at Bucky's grave in Holy Cross last night," Steve said. "She was with someone."

"The same someone who jumped off the side of the building?" said Peggy.

Steve made an ambiguous gesture.

"Commie spies!" Howard said.

Steve's eyes wandered to the balcony; his stomach dropped a little when no face was looking back at him. His lips murmured, "Not commies."

"Goodness," Peggy breathed.

Steve looked over to her. She'd rolled up the redhead's sleeve and was lightly touching a scar just below the crease of the girl's elbow. From his seat, the scar looked like it had a distinct shape to Steve.

Peggy answered the unspoken question suffocating the room. "It's a brand."

Steve stood behind Peggy to get a better look. The scar was made up of two triangles. The shapes were inverts of each other and connected at their vertex of reflection. It looked like an hourglass.

"What's it mean?" Angie asked. She was behind the sofa, looking down at the girl. Curiosity and caution coloured her face. 

Peggy pulled the girl's sleeve down. "I don't think she has anything to do with your missing key, Howard. But she's no ordinary orphan."

On the rooftop of a nearby building, a dark-haired boy was watching everything. He clenched his jaw to make his teeth stop chattering. Gauging the distance between his location and the top of the Crown on Broadway, he chewed his lip. Instinct told him to get to the high ground, and his pulse pushed rhythmically on his bruises.

It was a long way up. It was a long way down.

He had to get in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Assisted by Angie, Peggy searched the redhead for anything that might give them some hint about who she was or where she came from. The girl's eyes moved beneath their lids when Peggy and Angie moved her, and sometimes she made soft groaning sounds, but the girl never woke. She wore two tattered coats and, in the breast pocket of the inner one, Peggy found some documents.

"They're immigration papers," she said.

"Where from, the Motherland?" Howard said. He hadn't forgiven the girl for allegedly stealing his still-missing key.

Peggy said, "They're forgeries — very good ones, but not perfect. But according to them, she's Anna Marie Such from Poland, formerly Prussia."

Peggy handed them to Steve; he looked hard at them. The paper felt heavy and damp. Steve rubbed at them, and the documents split, revealing a new sheet that had been stuck to one of its fellows.

"Got papers for a male, Paweł Szmanski, too," Steve said. "Also from Poland."

Steve ran his finger over a rough section of Szmanski's document. It was as if something had been scratched out. Steve was annoyed; he knew a photograph should have been there.

"So was she in charge of the group, or was she the secretary?" Jim said. He made an apologetic face at Peggy.

"If she fought like you said, hard to believe she's just carryin' the paperwork," Angie said. " _You_ don't carry the paperwork, English."

"Be that as it may," said Peggy, "we still don't know what her partner's capable of."

Another thing they found on the girl was a road map of wounds and scars. Her fingers were crooked from being broken so often; Steve's had been the same way. Angie found a partially healed gunshot wound on the girl's thigh — no wonder she hadn't been able to escape. Bruises were aplenty, most of them almost healed. Small cuts that used to be slashes and lashes were everywhere. The _scars_.

"Cap," Gabe said. They were standing by the enormous tree — conveniently close to the balcony — to preserve the girl's modesty and privacy while Peggy and Angie looked her over for wounds. The girls announced remarkable wounds as they found them. "You remember when we were defending that city in Russia? We were working with that Soviet commander, Karpov."

Steve said, "Yeah," while Dum Dum and Jim nodded. Howard was leaning against the wall pouting, but it was clear he was listening.

"Remember what Buck found? When he went to set up a nest in that creepy building?"

The thought had never occurred to Steve. But then again, he wasn't exactly functioning at peak mental capacity. A shadow shifted in the corner of his eye.

"Jesus, that place was scary," Dum Dum said.

"What?" Howard said waspishly.

Steve said, "Bucky set up a sniper's nest in a bombed out building when we were on assignment in the Soviet Union. He found about forty young girls chained to beds in the sublevel."

"Jesus," Howard said. "What, you think our girl was one of them?"

Gabe shrugged. "They were all in rough shape."

"Seeing that really shook Bucky up," Dum Dum said thoughtfully.

It was like he was reading Steve's mind. It took weeks for Bucky to get proper sleep afterwards. God, he was so young. They all were.

"It was just a thought," Gabe said. "Might be she was one of 'em, and she came to find him or somethin'."

But Steve wasn't paying attention. He was seeing a memory: Bucky was dishevelled and said through laboured breath, _I just — Christ, I didn't sign up for this!_

 _I know_ , Steve said in the memory, but what he was thinking was that Bucky shouldn't have been able to sign up for anything in the first place. He'd said that to Bucky after they were safe, returned from Krausberg. Dirty, exhausted, and still a little disoriented, Bucky had smirked and said, _You're not the only one who can lie on the enlistment form, pal._

"Who's with her though?" Dum Dum wondered aloud.

"Maybe they _are_ working with Stark's enemy. The girl's just doing whatever they say; they're coercing her," Jim said.

"She's got the wounds to support it," said Gabe.

"Don't tell _me_ this was all a coincidence," Howard said, jumping onto a theory that didn't prove him wrong with enthusiasm.

"There'd be no good reason why she's starved if someone wanted to use her to break in and steal anything," Jarvis said. He'd just turned up in the den carrying two steaming bowls on a tray. Everyone looked up at him and watched him deposit his payload on the coffee table. "And, Mr Stark, security's rung. They've found the key to your lab in the lavatory. It seems it fell out of your pocket when—"

"Alright, alright. We all get the picture," Howard said. Annoyance had returned tenfold.

"Shh!" Angie hissed and flapped her hands. "She's wakin' up."

Steve led the men back over to the furniture. The girl was on her side frowning and blinking a lot. When some focus was established, she stared at the coffee table and its snacks.

Of all people, Jarvis took the lead. He said, "Excuse me, miss."

Her eyes jumped to him scary-fast. They narrowed in suspicion, and Steve knew she was tensing up, steeling herself.

"Have no fear," Jarvis said calmly. "My name is Edwin Jarvis. I've brought some soup. Would you like some? It's an old family recipe."

The girl looked from Jarvis to Peggy, who was still perched on the sofa. Angie waved a little when the girl eyed her. The girl's gaze went back to Jarvis and she spoke for the first time: "What kind?"

No hint of an accent. Steve knew Peggy was registering the same fact.

"Potato," Jarvis said.

The girl shifted, nodded, and sat up. Jarvis looked delighted. He set up a place for her to eat on the coffee table and then made a place for himself. Steve watched Peggy watch the girl watch Jarvis begin eating. After he'd swallowed three times, the girl forwent the utensils and drank the soup directly from the bowl.

Peggy threw a reflexive hand out. "Don't make yourself ill!"

Surely images of those people they'd found behind barbed wire fences in Europe at the end of the war were on her mind. All Steve had wanted was to help those people; so many had killed themselves when they got to eat again.

"Sorry," Peggy said. "Eat, please. Maybe more slowly."

The girl put the bowl down and took up the spoon. She and Jarvis finished eating at the same time.

"Room for more?" he said. "I've something I think you'll like."

"OK," she said after a pause.

Once Jarvis had gone, Peggy leaned forward and said, "What should we call you?"

"Anna."

"I found your papers; I know they're false."

The girl's face didn't change, but the air in the room was suddenly icy.

"You can call me Anna."

"We're not gonna hurtcha," Angie said. "No body's mad at you for tryin' to steal the purse. You could use the treats in there a lot more than any of us." She laughed and pinched her stomach — not that Angie had very much to spare.

"I wasn't going to steal it."

Clever — professionally done, but it was a lie.

"What're you doin' breaking into my property!" Howard said loudly and suddenly. It made even Steve jump.

"I didn't break in."

"You tellin' me someone let you in? You had a key to an apartment or an invitation to the party?"

It was possible the girl found the whole thing amusing. Peggy certainly thought so.

The girl said, "The door was open."

" _Which_ door?" Jim said.

She half turned toward him and smirked.

"I like this girl," Dum Dum faux-whispered.

Steve sat on the couch across from the girl. Her eyes slid off Howard and tracked his movements.

"You recognise me?" he said.

She licked her dry lips and hummed ambiguously.

"You were in the cemetery."

The girl reached into a pocket of one of her coats and flicked something small across the table. Steve caught it and looked. A Schaefer's bottle cap stared up at him.

"Why were you there?"

The question was heavy on everyone. She looked down and picked at her dry lips. Steve looked over to Peggy; she looked much more solid than Steve felt. Everything felt made of sand, liable to shift and consume him any second. The tension cracked with the return of Jarvis. He was carrying several mugs this time.

"I've brought cocoa for everyone!" he said. The force behind the cheeriness was only just detectable. A commendable job, Steve thought, better than he'd ever be capable of.

The mugs were distributed. The scent of the cocoa combined with the still-strong pine smell from the tree was almost enough to distract Steve from the situation at hand. Feelings of Christmas were dancing in the background. The snow beginning to fall heavily outside helped. Jarvis forced conversation with Gabe and Jim. He knew it was to make the girl feel more at ease, like she wasn't under scrutiny.

Angie sat down deliberately close to the girl and tapped her mug against hers. Holding her hand out, she said, "M'name's Angie, by the way."

The girl peeled a slow hand off of her mug and placed it in Angie's. There was an exchange of smiles, one open and friendly, the other tight and reserved.

The forced conversation got easier, but after forty minutes, the girl said, "I need to use the bathroom."

"Hell no," Howard said — he was having a hard time not saying anything this whole time, but Dum Dum was keeping him busy by asking about the amplifier. "She's going to sneak away and have a pow-wow with her accomplice."

Steve's heart leapt in his chest at the mention of the accomplice, and his eyes darted to the balcony.

"Nah, I'll go with her. You OK with that, Anna?" Angie said.

"I'd feel better if Peggy went with," Howard grumbled.

"Then we'll all go! C'mon, just us girls," said Angie.

The girl looked from Angie to Steve to Howard. She nodded. "OK."

They left their mugs on the table and went together. Angie and Peggy stood on either side of her. Steve noticed the girl was walking slowly and lopsidedly. He wondered if it was for show or if she felt comfortable enough not to attempt to hide it.

As soon as they were away, Howard said, "We gotta find her accomplice. I don't want any people jumping off my buildings, stealing my technology."

"Sir, I've told you that the key was found—" Jarvis tried to say.

"I know what you said!" Howard said. "But when have I ever lost a key to the lab, Jarvis! She took it and dumped it when she realised she couldn't get out. Or she left it there for this other guy to take while we were preoccupied with interrogating her."

"You're too hung up on this key thing," Jim said.

The pipes were shivering; the water was running in the bathroom. They must have decided to have the girl bathe. Steve couldn't say that it was a bad idea. As her body had thawed from the cold, the smell of the streets was coming off of her. How long did someone have to be on the streets for that to happen? For them to be fully marinated in poverty?

Steve stared out the windows while the rest of them fought over the stolen key theory.

"Hey, Stark, ya got any clothes Anna can wear?" Angie shouted from the bathroom at one point. "All hers stink to high heaven! And we need a first aid kit!"

There was a grumbly look on Howard's face, so Jarvis took care of it. "I'll get you the kit and show you to Mr Stark's room for feminine guests. Miss Such can choose whatever she likes."

"We can't let her wander off," Howard said.

"No kidding," said Jim. "She'll probably keel over and die."

"You're not gonna call the cops, are you?" Dum Dum said.

"Why not?" said Howard. "She has fake papers! She's here illegally, breaking and entering, attempting theft."

Gabe said, "I think you ought to keep the S.S.R. outta this until we have a better idea what's going on."

"A manhunt for the other guy should be started right away," Howard said.

This continued for a little while longer; Jarvis had cleared away all the mugs. Steve was eating a handful of cashews when a string of noises shook the whole building: Shattering glass, a voice screaming "No!", a gunshot, several heavy thuds, and several curses in a variety of languages.

All of them were running toward the source of the sounds: Howard's room for feminine company.

Angie's voice rose above it all. "Is that blood!"

Steve beat them all to it; he went through the door instead of trying to open it the normal way. "Peggy!" he shouted before his eyes could process the scene. Every last muscle locked in place.

Dum Dum crashed into Steve's back and froze, too. "Well, I'll be goddamned."

Angie and Peggy were on one side of the room, the one by the door. Neither looked hurt, but Peggy was standing defensively in front of Angie with her pistol drawn. It didn't dawn on Steve that this was the room that he had tried to look into the alley in until he stared long enough at the shattered window. The shards were all over the floor. The redhead was crouched over a twitching body by the window.

Steve didn't feel connected to his body as it walked across the room toward the girl. There _was_ blood on the floor. The girl looked up when Steve crouched down. She was pressing down on the twitching person's shoulder with a blanket from the bed. Blood saturated the fabric without urgency.

Steve would have known that face anywhere.

 _Open your eyes_ , he urged in his head. _Open your eyes if you're real_.

The girl took one hand off the blanket and reached into one of the other person's coat pockets. She pulled something out and held her closed fist out to Steve. His hand moved to accept automatically, without thought. A cool metal chain fell into Steve's hand. He stared down at the dog tags and the name pressed into the plates. Snow blew in through the broken window. All the air in the room seemed to compress to a solid. The ground had become unattached to Steve.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky said as his eyes opened, squinted in pain. "That hurts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's kind of a lot of ambiguity here, which I did on purpose. So if some things are making you go "eh????" maybe this helps explain it:
> 
> While I was developing this story, I had comics/teenager Bucky in mind. To make this idea mesh with MCU canon, I imagine Steve gets recruited for Rebirth at age 20 and goes away; Bucky, at 16, lies on his enlistment form and gets into the Army after Steve leaves. Then Azzano, Krausberg, yada yada yada.
> 
> I didn't explicitly mention any of this in the story (and I won't), so just ignore this note if Teen Bucky's not your cup o' tea.

Steve's lips moved on their own accord because his brain had stalled.

"Bucky," his lips said. It was a reflex, like saying "ow" after getting hit even if it didn't hurt. His lips did it a second time: "Bucky."

The redhead shifted and put every last ounce of her weight onto the bloody blanket and Bucky's shoulder. A rough combination of a groan and a sigh was forced out of Bucky's chest.

Steve couldn't stop staring. Questions flooded his mind so fast he couldn't pin any of them down long enough to ask.

"Bucky," his lips said.

" _Barnes_?" That was Howard's voice; Steve just barely registered it.

And then everything was loud and moving too fast. Jim, Gabe, and Dum Dum rushed forward and kept putting their hands on Bucky's legs, face, and chest. Evidently, Bucky didn't like it. He squirmed under their hands and tried to break the contact. The girl hindered some of his movement, pinning his right shoulder down.

"I don't believe it," Gabe said.

"What'd you put in that cocoa, huh, Jarvis?" Jim said. "I'm seein' a ghost."

Dum Dum whirled around and said, "What'd you shoot him for, Peggy?"

"Someone came flying in through the window!" she shouted. "What would you have done?"

"Jarvis, we need first aid," Gabe said. The calm in his voice was admirable. Steve latched onto it.

"Bucky," he said again, but this time his head was in it. When he leaned forward, everyone but the girl got out of the way. Steve put a hand on the side of Bucky's neck. His skin was cold and clammy. His pulse hummed under Steve's fingers — alive. Sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, he was _alive_. "Bucky."

The squirming died down and they finally looked at each other.

"Hey, man," Bucky said breathlessly. "Fancy meeting you here."

Jarvis was there suddenly. "Is it bad?"

The girl shook her head. "Through and through."

"Alright then. Sit him up and get all these clothes off," Jarvis said.

Dum Dum said, "Real dramatic entrance, Barnes."

"Yeah, well, you have my girl, don't you?" He groaned when the girl pushed down hard on the blanket covering his wound, but it turned into a laugh at the end. "You know what I meant."

Jarvis was saying, "Keep holding pressure. Captain, if you would help him sit?"

"Y-yeah."

"No," Bucky said. He pulled his uninjured arm away from Steve and tried to roll onto his side. "I can — Natasha, please."

" _Natasha_ , huh?" Howard said. "Commie spies, like I said."

"Oh, put a sock in it," Angie said.

"They're going to take your clothes," the girl — Anna, Natasha, whatever — said. "He's going to see."

 _See what_? Steve swallowed drily at the thought of wounds like the girl's marring Bucky's body, too.

"It'll be OK," she said.

Bucky nodded and turned his left hand so that Steve could take it. He did and, beneath the glove, it was hard and so cold.

"Up now," Jarvis said.

The girl clamped the blanket on either side of Bucky's shoulder as Steve guided him into a sitting position.

"Nice shot, Carter," Bucky said from between clenched teeth.

"Next time use the door and I won't have to shoot you," she said.

"Coats," Jarvis said. "Start on the left."

"Shouldn't you move him away from the broken window?" Jim said.

"If it's as she says, this won't take long," Gabe said. He'd always been the best of them in the role of medic.

Layer by layer, Steve and Jarvis peeled Bucky. His frame shrank and shrank. It was like seeing the people in those camps again. Bucky refused to take his gloves off until they got down to the last layer of flannel. The girl pulled the right one off, and Bucky used his teeth to get the left off.

Steve didn't understand at first; he thought Bucky had a second, armoured glove on underneath the leather one. When Steve looked from the hand to Bucky in confusion, Bucky wouldn't meet his eye. Bizarrely, shame was weighing his head down. Undoing the buttons of the flannel shirt, it finally came together. The whole room got stiff once Bucky was bare chested.

Again, Steve couldn't do anything but stare. None of this could possibly be _real_. The questions flooded his head until they were tangled and blocking coherent thought.

Still holding the blanket tight to the entrance and exit wounds, the girl — Natasha — nudged her forehead against Bucky's temple. She ducked her head into his line of sight and made a silly face.

"What, ain'tcha ever seen a false limb before?" Angie said in a voice that was almost smooth. "We've all seen Sousa's, right? He was trippin' Howard just a few hours ago!"

The metal hand — arm, it went all the way up into his shoulder — contracted into a fist. The motion produced a soft, mechanical sound. Steve gripped tighter the metal wrist in his hand.

Howard said in an awed voice, "It's beautiful."

Natasha said something to Bucky in a language Steve didn't understand. Whatever it was that she said, it made Bucky smile and duck his head further. She kissed the side of his head; a small smile was on her face, too. Their interactions mesmerized Steve. It was like watching a dream that wasn't his.

"It went in the back, out the front," Natasha said to Jarvis.

Little instruments ready, Jarvis examined the wound once Natasha removed the bloodstained blanket.

"Some glass in there," Jarvis said lowly.

Not a second later, Bucky tensed and hissed. A worse sound was choked back.

If this was a dream, despite everything, it was a good dream. If it was a dream, Steve wasn't going to waste it. Because this was a gift. Bucky back, alive, was a gift. Dream or reality, Steve wouldn't waste it; he had done too much wrong already.

So Steve scooted closer and put a hand on Bucky's back. Every last vertebrae pushed back at Steve's fingers. "Try to relax," he said.

After a minute, he did. Tension bled away — not entirely, but enough to get him to stop holding his breath. Whatever he'd been running on — adrenaline or a sense of protectiveness over this girl — began to drain away with the tension. Bucky's head began to dip, and Steve nudged him until his head dropped onto Steve's shoulder. Natasha watched them with a smug look on her face.

"That's the back done," Jarvis said while snipping the thread of the last suture.

The wound wasn't bleeding anymore when Natasha pulled the blanket away from the front of Bucky's shoulder. Jarvis switched places with her; she was fixing a dressing over the neat collection of stitches while he got to work looking at the exit wound. Steve stayed put and ran a hand up and down Bucky's spine in a futile attempt to quell the shivering.

"You'd think a guy would get used to being shot after the fifth time," Bucky said shakily. It was a brave attempt at a strong front.

Steve filed that remark away in the Questions for Later, Assuming This is Real part of his head. He let himself laugh.

"God, you must be starving," Dum Dum said suddenly. "You look like Cap before they made him Cap."

"Kick a guy when he's down," Bucky mumbled.

"There's more potato soup," Jarvis said. "I'll put it on when I'm done here."

"Don't worry, Ed, I've got it," Angie said and slipped out the door.

The wind gusted and Bucky shook so much that Jarvis had to pause in his work. Steve noticed that the girl hunched in on herself a little, too. The clothes she'd taken from Howard's "feminine company" closet weren't thick enough for sitting by an open window. Steve saw Bucky eyeing his coats longingly.

"Got anything for him to wear?" Steve asked Howard.

The inventor was still staring at the metal appendage. Absently, he said, "Sure, of course." Dum Dum had to push him out the door to stop him from staring.

"Someone's gotta tell George and Winnie," Gabe said.

It occurred to Steve: Natasha had tried to steal the baked goods in Peggy's purse, not simply because she was hungry, but because Bucky wanted to taste his mother's cooking again.

Maybe. It wasn't _impossible_.

"After he's cleaned up," Steve said. "If Winnie saw him like this. . ." He shook his head.

"Steve," said Peggy, "this is their _son_."

Jim spoke up, "We can go down there and explain before they come up to see him. Buy some time. Someone oughta say something to 'em about the . . . you know. Before they see it _and_ the gunshot wound."

Jarvis was almost done with the stitches in the front. Bucky yawned on Steve's neck. Natasha played with the crooked fingers of Bucky's right hand. Those fingers hadn't been so crooked last time Steve saw them.

"OK," Steve said.

"I'm sure Mr Stark will loan you one of his vehicles."

Gabe and Jim left.

A moment later, Jarvis said, "That's it. All done."

Natasha began applying a dressing to the front; it was considerably larger than the back. That was to be expected. They had all seen it on battlefields.

"I have so many questions," Steve said to no one in particular.

Peggy laughed lightly from across the room.

"I got a few things," Howard said from the doorway. There was a bundle of clothing in his arms.

"Thanks," Peggy said. The tone made Howard turn tail and leave instead of hang around and stare at the metal arm some more. If Steve hadn't busted the door off its hinges, she would have shut the door in his face.

Getting the clothes on was a little interesting. A few colourful words were tossed around. But they got the job done eventually.

"Ready to get outta this ice-cold room?" Steve said to Bucky.

"Mm," he hummed. "Ste . . .?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"M'bout two seconds away from fallin' asleep." His head was heavy on Steve's shoulder.

By "falling asleep," Steve was sure he meant "passing out."

Natasha mussed his hair and said, "Eat first."

"Tired," he said through a yawn.

"Because you only ate chestnuts the last two days."

The response: a grunt.

Steve said, "C'mon, let's at least get out of this room."

"Hurts," Bucky said.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I'll help you," Steve said.

When they rose, Bucky slumped into Steve's side. God, when was the last time that happened? When was the last time Bucky had let himself be that vulnerable? When _exactly_ was the last time he'd let Steve take care of him like this? Jesus, ten years ago? Fifteen?

"Dizzy," Bucky mumbled.

Natasha was right; he needed to eat. The _two_ of them — the girl should eat again, too. Peggy raised her eyebrows from across the room. _Starving, the two of 'em_ , that look said.

"One step at a time," Steve said. "I've got ya, Bucky, it's OK."

If this was a dream, Steve wasn't going to ruin it, waste it. If this wasn't a dream — if it was reality — Steve was going to do it right.

 _I've got you this time, I swear_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky was more than half asleep as they walked to the den. The girl walked on Bucky's right, holding his arm up close to his chest, while Steve was on the left. Peggy went first and glanced back frequently. It was like carrying a skeleton. Such blind trust — Bucky didn't even have his eyes open. Maybe it wasn't trust; Steve probably still wasn't thinking clearly. It was plain to see that Bucky was just exhausted.

"We should get him a sling," Peggy said. "Can't be good having his arm like that."

"M'fine," Bucky slurred.

"We know, Buck," Steve said. To Dum Dum, he said, "The others head to Flatbush?"

"Should've left by now."

At the sofa, Natasha sat and fixed a place beside her for Bucky. Steve eased him down.

"Wonder how they'll take it," Dum Dum said. "His parents."

"I'm not even sure how _I'm_ taking it," Steve said.

Peggy said, "Where's Howard?"

"Ran off for his lab," Dum Dum supplied.

"Nothing but good can come from that," Peggy said sarcastically.

Steve watched Natasha arrange Bucky's right arm across his body to ease the weight on it on his wounds. The curling of the metal fingers on the left was distracting. Steve deliberately looked away; Bucky clearly had complex feelings about it. It was almost a relief when Natasha pulled the blanket Gabe had put on her when _she_ had passed out around the two of them, hiding both of Bucky's arms. They were like puzzle pieces, Steve thought. Bucky and this redhead just _fit_ together; under the blanket, they leaned into each other's hollow places and rested their heads together.

Steve had to step away. Peggy and Dum Dum followed him over to the giant, smelly tree. They faced one another.

All at once, Dum Dum said, "What the hell?", Peggy said, "I don't believe it.", and Steve said, " _How_?" They all laughed weird, breathless sounds. It could have been relief if they all weren't in shock. Steve rubbed at his face.

"Now what?"

Peggy was watching the back of the couch thoughtfully. Slowly, she said, "I don't think you should go at him with questions. Or her."

Steve's face deformed with astonishment. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"That's more impossible than Bucky being alive," Dum Dum said, "askin' Cap not to ask questions."

"It's just for now," Peggy said. "They look awful. Give them some time to come out of survival mode."

A monstrous frown took up residence on Steve's face.

"Steve," Peggy said. She put a hand on his forearm so he'd look at her. "Who knows how long they were following you? They must have had a reason for not approaching sooner."

"He _better_ have a good reason," Steve grumbled without thought.

"Then there's the whole arm thing," Dum Dum said. "How're we supposed to just ignore it?"

Peggy shrugged. "If you must ask, wait for him to bring it up."

"Anyone gonna say somethin' about how he doesn't look like he's aged a day? Skinny and rough, but he doesn't look a tick older. Even magic potion Rogers has aged," Dum Dum said.

"You'll just have to wait," Peggy said. "But Howard may be onto something with the Soviets."

" _What_?"

"Bucky's not a communist spy!"

"I'm open to other theories that explain the star on his prosthetic arm!"

Steve didn't know what to say, so he flared his nostrils. It was for the better since Angie and Jarvis entered just then with more soup. Steve and the others wandered back over to the couch.

"Gather round," Jarvis said. "I've enough for everyone."

Steve and Peggy sat across from Bucky and the girl since Angie sat next to them, leaving just enough room for no one. Jarvis and Dum Dum sat in armchairs. Natasha plucked at Bucky until he took the weight of his own head back onto his neck and blinked his eyes into focus. She spoke to him lowly in that foreign language again. Last Steve knew, Bucky only knew English and a handful of phrases — all involving food, cursing, or cigarettes — in German and Italian. All the Commandos spoke a bastardised version of French thanks to Dernier. There was nothing familiar about what Natasha spoke.

Peggy shifted to get Steve's attention. Everyone else was focussed on handing out the soup; they didn't see Peggy tilt her head at Natasha and mouth the word "Russian."

Steve accepted the soup with detachment. They'd all been around Soviets. An image of those girls chained to beds flashed in Steve's mind again. With all his questions about Bucky clogging his mind, it was worth remembering that the girl was just as curious. Bucky obviously cared for her — he'd busted a window thirty stories up just to make sure she was OK. But they had no idea _why_ , no clue what the circumstances were. An impulse surged through Steve, telling him to separate Bucky from the girl.

He didn't act on it. He wouldn't, not until he knew more. Besides, Bucky was eating (at last). He was using his left hand, which was distracting, but Steve smiled faintly. It was quiet in the room. The silence begged for questions.

Dum Dum broke first. "So where'd you two meet?"

Peggy's face was hysterical.

Bucky and Natasha looked almost terrified that a question had been posed to them. Spoons clattered in their bowls.

"Nah — I didn't mean," Dum Dum stammered.

"Gulag," Natasha said.

The look on Peggy's face switched emotion and was directed at two new subjects in the blink of an eye. "Gulag?"

"You were imprisoned?" The outrage in Dum Dum's voice matched that in Steve's chest.

Bucky bit his lip and ducked his head further.

"Yes," Natasha said.

"This whole time?" Dum Dum said. The question only made sense when directed at Bucky, but answers sure as hell weren't forthcoming from him.

"Since 1945 for him," Natasha said.

"And for you?" Steve couldn't help but ask. Peggy still looked too shocked to speak, which usually meant something fishy was going on.

Natasha stared calmly back at him. She simply said, "Longer."

Bucky put the half-full bowl on the table and pushed it away. Peggy flashed Steve a flat look. Dum Dum got one, too, more severe than the one Steve got.

"Sorry," Dum Dum said. "Shouldn't have brought it up, Buck."

Bucky shook his head. "S'OK. It's just . . . um, it's hard to . . ." He shrugged with his mechanical shoulder.

"You don't have to say anything," Peggy said.

"No, it's not like," Bucky tried again but he trailed off again. Heaving a sigh, he said, "I can't really remember."

Dum Dum's brows deflected downward. "Remember what?"

"Anything," he said in a choked voice. They gave him time to breathe, and he said, "I can't remember what I don't remember — I mean, I don't know what I don't remember until something reminds me. Hits me funny sometimes."

Steve couldn't fight his frown.

"Sounds like you two've been through an awful lot," Angie said. "But at least you have each other."

"Yes," Natasha said.

Dum Dum nodded toward the bowl on the table. "Best finish that, Buck. Hurts just lookin' at you."

"Kinda nauseated."

Jarvis said, "Perhaps I can get you something else."

He shook his head. "I just wanna go to sleep. Damn arm hurts."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have shot someone who jumped through _your_ window," Peggy said.

"Yeah, why _didn't_ you use the door?" Dum Dum said.

"Too many stairs."

"So you thought you'd climb the outside of the building?" Steve said softly.

Bucky shrugged.

"Were you two in the ballroom? I swear I saw you just out of the corner of my eye all night."

The two of them breathed soft laughter.

Steve said, "How long would you've followed me if Peggy didn't catch your friend?"

Bucky's eyes were shut again, but he shrugged. "Until I was sure."

 _Sure of what?_ But Steve didn't ask; he wasn't sure he understood. Bucky's jaw tensed — the obvious shifting of tendons in his neck was unsettling.

Peggy said in a relatively quiet voice, "Mr Jarvis, is there anything we can give him for pain?"

Natasha was shaking her head. "He won't take anything."

"Why not?" said Dum Dum. "Too proud?"

It made Natasha smile conservatively. "Makes him sick and confused."

"There's _nothing_?" Steve said.

"Doesn't feel right to just leave him to deal with it," Peggy said. She'd never admit that shooting an intruder that she thought was threatening her and her friends was wrong, Steve knew, but she was sorry that Bucky had been hurt.

"L'be fine," Bucky said. He was very deliberately trying to force his body to relax. "S'not so bad."

Natasha rearranged the blanket around the two of them. Like before, they folded up together like machine parts made to mesh. Both of their eyes closed, and they sought rest. From his seat, Steve watched Bucky's jaw tighten every so often. He wanted to be able to do something, _anything_. He spent most of the space in his head thinking about this. The conversation around him didn't register beyond acknowledging that it was happening. Time passed too fast but all of it felt so slow and painful. A remote part of Steve knew Peggy was worried by his silence, but there was no knocking him out of it now. 

 _How?_ his brain insisted over and over. How was Bucky here? How had he gotten the prosthetic arm — and what happened to his real one? How had he survived a fall like that? How had he wound up in a Soviet gulag? How had he escaped? How had he gotten into such an awful state? He was hardly more than an animated skeleton.

After all the hows, Steve found there was a hot, angry question he wanted an answer to: Who? Who would _dare_? Steve pulled out the dog tags and squeezed them in his fist. He had to know _who_.

Four feet away, Dum Dum was thinking the same thing.

Steve didn't snap out of it until he heard a broken, sobbing sound. Turning toward it, he saw Winnie Barnes. She'd clapped a hand over her mouth to quell the sound. Beside her, George had a tight grip on her shoulder; he looked so pale. Gabe and Jim were behind them, ready to jump in should any aged knees give out.

Steve got up and went to them. He didn't break stride as he hugged Winnie hard. She returned it. It was impossible to explain — and Steve didn't understand it — but with Winnie shaking in his arms and George using every last ounce of self-control he possessed to keep his emotions in check— . . . Steve finally felt tears building up in his eyes.

"I didn't believe it," Winnie whispered. "I don't believe it."

"S'really him," Steve said thickly.

"Oh," she said, a wound to her chest, a _happy_ wound. Grief and happiness at once. "They said — his arm — and Peggy."

Steve bumped his chin against the top of her head. Everything was blurry from the building tears. "Yeah, it's metal. He's going to be alright. Just tired and hungry is all."

George took a shuddering breath to steady himself.

"I don't believe it," Winnie said through her tears.

A small voice thick with exhaustion and hurt spoke from behind them; it filled the whole goddamn tower with warmth: "Momma?"

Steve let Winnie go and got out of the way. Bucky was struggling to detangle himself from the blanket and get to his feet; he was already crying. He didn't make it two steps past the coffee table before Winnie caught him in her arms. There were mutual, muted sobs.

 _That_ broke the goddamn floodgates; Steve laughed through a sob. Peggy appeared at his side and squeezed his arm. Bucky's right arm was caught between his and Winnie's chests, but the left hovered around her as if Bucky was afraid to touch her with it. She tightened her hold and used one hand to cradle the back of his head to her shoulder.

"My son," Winnie was saying. "My boy, my only son. I don't believe it." She alternated between kissing the side of his head and squeezing him tighter to her. "My son."

The metal arm settled lightly and hesitantly around Winnie's back. By virtue of his enhanced hearing, Steve heard her say, "I prayed. I prayed every night of that damned war to whoever would listen — bring me back my son!"

Steve wiped the tears from his eyes when he saw the metal hand grip a handful of Winnie's coat, desperate, longing. George came alive and went up beside his wife and son. He took a moment before he put a hand on Bucky's left shoulder.

When he lifted his head, Steve could see all the evidence of crying on Bucky's face, and the breath stuttered in Steve's chest. He blinked several times in quick succession.

"M'sorry," Bucky tried to say through his tears to George. "I'm so sorry."

George's face shook but didn't break. He reached out, and Winnie shifted so that both of them could hold their son at the same time.

"Shush," George said while Bucky hid his face in George's neck and shoulder. "You be quiet with that now."

Angie made a high pitched sound that she tried to muffle by clapping her hands over her mouth. Peggy laughed and wiped her eyes discreetly.

"Damn it, Barnes," Dum Dum mumbled, face suspiciously puffy and red around the eyes.

"My only son. I don't believe it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	10. Chapter 10

George, Winnie, and Bucky stayed clinging together until Bucky's legs gave out. They were holding each other so tightly that he hardly fell more than an inch.

Bucky sniffed and said, "Sorry."

Winnie made a laughing, wet sound and said, "Sit down, sit down. Lord, look at you. Sit."

So she and George did just that, putting him down on the sofa after Angie jumped out of the way. Bucky laughed and hiccuped. He wiped his face with his metal hand and then used it to cradle his right arm to his chest. Winnie sat beside him and pulled him against her side. She planted kisses in his hair and watered them with her tears. George propped himself on the arm of the sofa.

"We've missed you so much. So much," Winnie said. She held Bucky out at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Never thought I'd see you again, and the way things were between you and your father when you left . . ."

Bucky nodded and tried to stop his eyes from leaking. Steve and the others moved in. Sitting side by side with Peggy, he watched Bucky's mechanical hand grip his right wrist.

"Can't stop shaking," Bucky said. "I'm actually here."

Steve couldn't have said it better himself.

Winnie pulled him close to her again. "You're skin and bone. Can I get you something? There must be something I can get you."

Bucky's head was shaking against her. "Just stay here." But he was sitting back as he said it.

"We're not lettin' you outta our sight for a _long_ time, kid," George said. "You ever do that to us again we're lettin' Peggy over there shoot you more than just once."

"OK," he said. Emotion took up a lot of room in his throat when he said it.

Winnie reached out, putting a hand on Bucky's hollow cheek. She asked the room at large, "Shouldn't he be in a hospital?"

"Probably," Jim said lightly.

"I'm OK, Ma. I'm fine," Bucky said.

"Like hell you're fine," said George.

"Might take a lot of explaining, bringin' him to a hospital," Dum Dum said.

Peggy spoke up, "We could take them to one of the S.S.R.'s facilities. There'll be less curious onlookers."

Bucky shook his head. "Nah. I mean, it's fine. We'll both be fine. This is nothing." He shrugged his right side to prove it, but he bit his lip while he did it.

"Nice," said Gabe.

"F'gets worse, I'll tell ya," Bucky said. The exhaustion was crashing down on him again. "But it's bearable for now, I swear."

"We'll have Cece look at you first chance we get, how's that?" Winnie said. She ran a hand through his hair. "Gotta see your sisters, don't you? And all their little ones."

He nodded under her hand. Blowing out a breath to steady himself, Bucky looked over at Natasha. She was curled up on the end of the couch watching everything thoughtfully.

George was watching Bucky's eyes and said, "Who do we got here? You bring us home another daughter?"

It drew a watery laugh from Bucky. He gestured to Natasha. Hesitantly, she slid out of her defensive, curled-up position and sat on Bucky's wounded side. He said, "This is Natasha."

"Hello, Natasha," Winnie said with a gentle smile. "I can't thank you enough for bringing my son home."

There was pink in Natasha's hollow cheeks; she didn't know what to say. She looked to Bucky with wide eyes.

"It's alright," he said to her and then said something else to her in that language she kept whispering to him — Russian, if Peggy was right. To his parents, Bucky said, "She's not from around here."

George leaned forward and offered his hand. "Hey there, Natasha. I'm George."

Natasha put her skeletal hand in George's. "Hi."

"Wanna know something about my son, Natasha?" he continued.

"What?"

"I've seen him look at a lotta girls with hearts in his eyes," George said. Steve felt his face smiling; George knew how to speak to daughters better than anyone Steve had ever met. "But I ain't never seen him look at someone the way he just looked at you."

"It's because he's an idiot."

The whole room erupted in laughter.

Everyone stayed at the Crown on Broadway that night — Howard never surfaced from his laboratory. Bucky fell asleep with his head on his mother's shoulder and Natasha under his mechanical arm. Steve woke with Peggy curled up beside him on the couch; he thought he remembered Jarvis trying to convince everyone to sleep in one of the many vacant rooms. None of them had wanted to be parted from the others. Indeed, Jim, Gabe, and Dum Dum were damn near cuddling on the floor beside the Christmas tree.

Jarvis arranged for food to be brought up. He called it breakfast even though they'd all slept well past normal breakfast hours. Bucky and Natasha were slow to rouse despite how loudly their stomachs were growling for more to eat. Gabe checked the dressing on Bucky's wound when everyone was done eating. Again, Steve didn't like watching Bucky's frame shrink as they pulled back all the layers of borrowed clothing.

"Just a little bit of bleeding," Gabe said of the dressing. "Probably from your mama hugging you so hard."

"Shut up, Jones," Bucky murmured with his eyes at half-staff.

He pressed on the skin around the stitches a little. "How's that feel? It's a little swollen, but that's to be expected."

"It's fine."

"A real answer, Sergeant, please."

"S'little sore, but not bad. Normal."

Gabe smiled. "Alright. Well, you remember the drill? Any time you feel h—"

"I know. Figures that the spiel about signs of infection is one of the things I remember."

"Good to know you were listening to _something_ ," Dum Dum said.

"I was listening."

Steve said, "So you just ignored everything?"

"Look who's talking," Peggy said.

Angie and Jim had appointments to take care of and both were reluctant to leave.

"I'll see you for New Year's," Jim said to Bucky. He hugged Bucky with one arm and uncharacteristic gentleness. When they separated, he said, "I can't wait to see the look on Frenchie's face when he sees you."

Dum Dum and Gabe were the next to leave. They had similar sentiments to Jim before they left. Steve was sure he'd see them both before the scheduled New Year's reunion.

It wasn't long after their departure when Winnie suggested that Bucky wash the stench of the streets off.

"It's a good idea," Natasha said to him.

"Yeah, wash up, boy," George said. "We gotta talk to your girl without you here."

Bucky rolled his eyes, and he looked heartbreakingly close to how he used to. "If the two of you were alone in a room — I'd be more worried about _you_ , Dad."

"I'm just more intrigued."

"Don't worry," Peggy said, "I'll keep them separated."

Bucky pushed himself up from the couch with his left hand and Winnie's help. His knees cracked as he straightened. "Um, Steve?" he said.

Nothing else needed to be said; Steve got to his feet and walked along at Bucky's side to the bathroom. Steve shut the door once they made it inside. Bucky leaned on the wall and squeezed his eyes closed. The lines around his eyes — Steve _knew_ those lines.

"Hey," he said, "what is it? Bucky, what, is it your arm?"

He shook his head against the wall. The grease in his hair was leaving little stains. "I just don't know what I'm doing here."

Steve blinked and stood there with his mouth open like an idiot. Then it hit him with the force of a tonne of bricks. Steve picked Bucky off the wall and crushed him in a hug.

"You _idiot_ ," Steve said. "You moron. I thought you were _dead_ , Bucky. You _were_ dead — for three years. I've lived with you dead for three years. You idiot, you stupid idiot. I don't care if you don't remember. None of them care that you don't remember, because it's you — _alive_."

"The things I've done," Bucky said to Steve's shirt. "What I've _done_ —"

"Shut up."

"The gulag—"

"I don't care, Bucky."

"After all HYDRA—"

"Stop talking."

The mechanical fist slammed into the wall. "I have _this_. I remember getting it stuck to me. The people — Jesus, the things they made me do with this _thing_."

"Bucky!" Steve said. "Bucky, shut up. I don't care about your metal arm beyond the fact that you're attached to it and that you're _alive_. Just shut up, you idiot."

" _Steve_."

" _Bucky_ , please, let me have this. I'm so tired of missing you — I just want to have you back. OK? I've been having beers in a cemetery every few weeks with your empty grave for _years_! Just let me have you back, and we'll figure out the rest."

They breathed against each other. Their chests reached for each other, pushed, and retreated. Bucky was still in Steve's arms. Long minutes passed with them like this, neither of them moving beyond breathing. 

"You didn't fall asleep while I'm trying to talk to you, did you, you jerk?" Steve said.

He felt Bucky's flighty breath of laughter on his neck. "No. Near thing though."

It had been so _long_ since they'd been together like this. Steve tightened his hold in case it wasn't real; he still wasn't entirely convinced. The types of things he'd run into with the S.S.R. made him believe in things that caused prolonged hallucinations of things you loved.

"I raided Krausberg the first time I thought war killed you," Steve said. "What do you think it was like the second time, when it was my fault?"

"Wasn't your fault."

Steve closed his eyes. "Shut up."

"Yer still uh punk."

Steve rocked his weight a little. "You gettin' tired just standing up?" he said in a teasing voice. The Commandos used to say the same thing when Bucky moaned during long marches. As sniper, he was almost always lying around.

"Little bit."

"C'mon then. Let's get you cleaned up and go home."

"Kay."

Steve let Bucky back out of the embrace, but he could have gone with a few more (long) seconds. There would be plenty more time for that. Years of time for it. They were going to go home. Steve didn't have to miss him anymore, didn't have to talk to a ghost. Having Bucky in front of him made Steve realise how much he hadn't stopped grieving the loss. Having Bucky in front of him made Steve realise that he never would have stopped grieving the loss.

"Your timing is impeccable by the way," Steve said.

"Yeah. Merry Christmas, I'm not dead."

They didn't have to miss each other anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to follow


	11. Postscript

After cleaning Bucky up, Jarvis took him, George, Winnie, and Natasha back to the brownstone in Flatbush. Steve and Peggy were right behind them; they made a stop at their own place to clean up and refresh. Jarvis rang early in the evening to ask if there was anything he could send over. Winnie refused any help; she could take care of her son just fine, thank you. Steve found it hard to leave that night.

"Oh, you'll be back again tomorrow," Peggy said. "Don't beat around the bush."

"He's not goin' anywhere, Steve," George said. "And if he disappears, you'll be the first to know."

"Get outta here, punk," Bucky said from the couch where he was lying on his side. Natasha was tucked behind his knees with her toes shoved between the couch cushions. "I'll probably be exactly where I am right now in the morning." 

"Alright, alright," Steve said, "I'm going. You better be here when I come back."

And he was. The next day, he was, too. And the day after that. George said in a low voice while Winnie fussed over her son and her "newest daughter" that Bucky slept through the whole night like a log. A few times, over the passing days, George said one (or both) of them would wake disoriented, defensive, and scared; he and Winnie suspected nightmares. Steve was there when Becca, Betty, and Cecelia came to see Bucky. Golly, that was something to see. They yelled at him good-naturedly and fawned over Natasha. Apparently, she had beautiful hair. It only took a few hours for everyone to start referring to Bucky's mechanical arm as his "can opener." Bucky didn't seem to mind. In fact, he kind of smiled. 

Becca swatted at Bucky's left shoulder and said, "I named my son after you. The least you coulda done is stay dead. Now I look like an idiot that I named my son after my perfectly fine brother."

"I didn't ask you to do that," Bucky said. He was a little unsure around his sisters; Steve could see it in his face. The girls knew it, too, but they were kind enough not to point it out. They rolled along and let him participate to his level of comfort.

When he met his nieces, nephew, and brothers-in-law, the hesitance was even more pronounced. Shirley was sitting on Joe's lap in a chair across from the couch Bucky and Steve were sat on. She pointed a stubby finger at Bucky and said loudly, "Who's that?"

"That's your momma's brother," Joe said. "He's your uncle."

"Uncle Steve is my uncle."

"He is. But that's your uncle, too. You have Uncle Steve, and now you have Uncle Bucky, too."

"Why is he only bones?"

Bucky bit his lip and shifted in discomfort. Steve was holding baby Jaime in a sitting position between himself and Bucky. Winnie didn't think it was a good idea for a curious baby to be crawling all over Bucky; Jaime might aggravate the stitches in Bucky's shoulder. Which was fine since Bucky didn't want to hold the baby anyway. Steve could tell how much Bucky hesitated to touch things with his can opener. He was always afraid he'd break something on accident. 

"There wasn't a lot of food where he was," Steve said.

"Well, where was he? Why don't they got no food?"

Bucky retreated to the kitchen before anyone could reply.

Howard called on 30 December and asked Peggy to come over, so Steve went down to Flatbush on his own. Bucky and Natasha did little more than eat and sleep most of the time, but Steve went anyway. Winnie yelled when Bucky walked around the house for too long. She said he'd tire himself out — which was hilarious because he was just _walking_ and it actually _did_ tire him out.

"You go sit on the couch and get fat," she always said, swatting at him until he sat down. Natasha got the same treatment. She always looked surprised and a little pleased about it.

A few times Steve tried to share some Schaefer with Bucky, but Winnie was a hawk. She'd pluck the bottle out of Bucky's hand in an instant.

"No alcohol!" she'd say.

"C'mon, Ma," Bucky said. "It's been years. Haven't I earned one?"

"No alcohol until I can't see your ribs. Drink your milk."

"What, you can see through clothes now?"

She whacked Bucky on the back of the head. "It's a shame you still have that smart mouth, James." The third time she caught Bucky with beer, Winnie kicked Steve out of the house for trying to undermine her rules and corrupt her son's recovery. 

It was like they were kids again. Steve laughed about it until he realised that he had to spend a whole day by himself, unable to keep himself calm by having eyes on Bucky. Winnie always knew where it hurt most when it came to disciplining her kids. Steve spent the day buying new clothes for Bucky. 

Early on the next morning, Steve got a call from Peggy's office.

"What's goin' on?" he said. "You didn't come home last night."

"Howard showed me something in his lab and then we came here to the S.S.R. office."

"What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. Just head to Flatbush and give George and Winnie my best, OK? Save me some of her strawberry preserves — they're to die for."

"Peggy."

"I'll be over later tonight, as soon as we're finished here. It's just paperwork, honestly."

" _Peggy_."

She sighed irritably. "I think the S.S.R. knew that the Soviets had Barn—that they had Bucky."

Surly he'd heard wrong. "Come again."

"I don't have all the answers, but Howard's shown me a few things that put that metal arm into serious question. I think someone here knew that Bucky had been captured, and they went out of their way to make arrangements for him to remain in the Soviet Union as a prisoner."

"Who?"

"I'll explain everything when I see you tonight, I promise. But right now I've got to run."

Steve loved her, but sometimes Peggy could be frustrating. The conversation made the New Year's Eve festivities in Flatbush hard to focus on; Steve managed it though. There was another breakfast with the whole family. The little kids were louder than ever. Trudy and Shirley got into a fight — a _physical_ fight — and then threw tantrums when they were separated at the table. Baby Jaime screamed like his life depended on it and would only stop when Steve rocked him.

"He's always cryin' when Steve's not payin' attention to him," Becca said.

"Just like his eponym," Betty quipped. 

The table laughed, Bucky included. Natasha had gotten along well with the three Barnes sisters. They'd done her hair special, and her cheeks didn't look so hollow nor her eyes so sunken after Becca did her makeup. Bucky had explained that Natasha used to have a bunch of sisters back in the Soviet Union. It was nice for her to have something like them again. Winnie had tailored one of Cece's old dresses to fit Natasha. It was a wonder what it all did for her. She really could have passed for a regular, albeit skinny, girl.

Bucky had done his best to fix his hair with just his left hand. It was pretty well done, all things considered. The shave made him look younger, and his cheekbones stood out even more sharply. George had loaned Bucky a few of his old flannel shirts — the things were ancient, from the days when the family still lived in Shelbyville. But they were warm and loose enough for Bucky's odd and mismatched arms to move without hindrance — Cece made him a sling for the injured side, and the can opener had _a lot_ more girth than his right arm.

But even one-handed, Bucky tore through those pancakes like it was going out of style. They had always been his favourite and it appeared they still were. He probably gained five pounds in pancake weight during breakfast alone.

No one had any intention of going to Howard's party. Steve didn't even know if it was still going to happen after that conversation he'd had with Peggy. Instead, Dum Dum, Gabe, Jim, Dernier, and Falsworth all turned up on the front step at sunset. Buoyed by pancakes and five days of rest, Bucky greeted each of them on his feet and with a smile on his face. Dernier started crying right away and kissed Bucky's cheeks over and over.

"It's a miracle!" he cried.

They passed him around the room in hugs and tears.

"Bloody hell," Falsworth said, "you look like Captain Rogers used to!"

"Why's everyone keep sayin' that?" Bucky said. "I don't look _that_ bad."

"You keep tellin' yourself that, ace."

"Where's your lady love, huh?" Dernier said. "They said she was a daisy."

Bucky laughed. "A daisy, yeah. That's Nat."

Natasha introduced herself in French to Dernier; he looked so happy, and he jabbered away at her in French. After a while, he, she, and Gabe broke off to have an exclusively French conversation over a plate of sausages.

Falsworth and Dernier had been warned by the others not to ask too many questions, so most sticky situations were avoided. They reminisced for hours, telling watered down versions of a few missions for the in-laws and kids. Steve had told accounts of his missions to Winnie and George — and all the girls — before, but he'd never done it with all the Commandos in the room shouting abuse when Steve said something they didn't agree with. What had seemed so dire then was somehow laughable now. It wouldn't _stay_ laughable, not at night when artillery echoed in Steve's ears and he heard soldiers calling for their mothers like Bucky had the night he was reunited with his. But here and now, it was funny. The way their blood seemed to freeze in their veins in Bastogne was funny. The things they'd done to stay warm, how Dum Dum and Jim's foxhole was like home — the two of them bickering like an old couple until someone walked by that they could offer blankets and ersatz coffee to.

They talked about the time when they'd all been in one big foxhole, it was nearly a trench, and they could hear the Germans singing "Silent Night." Bucky admitted that he'd all but promised his firstborn child to a regular GI for a handful of Hershey's bars and half a pack of cigarettes — which he gave to the guys as gifts that Christmas night in the big foxhole.

" _That_ was how you got it?" Dum Dum shouted. "I always thought you'd been holding out on us the whole time!"

Bucky shook his head. "You know I always smoked my ration in the first three days."

The girls left one at a time to put their kids to bed. Winnie and George discretely snuck away; Steve knew Winnie deliberately didn't say anything about the bottle of Schaefer Bucky was nursing. In a short bit, Peggy was in the door, and she shared in their revelry. More colourful language was thrown around once there weren't any kids or parents around. They laughed louder and longer when it was just them, no space in-between.

Now wasn't the time for asking about where Bucky had been and what had happened. No questions about the star on his arm, who had put it there, who had known about it. It wasn't the time to question everything about Natasha. Now wasn't the time for Peggy to show them a stack of documents she'd taken from the S.S.R. office that were filled with red marks and HYDRA insignia. Now wasn't the time for her to ask if they were up for a mission that would take them beyond the Iron Curtain and into the dark places that thrived in the aftermath of wars.

Because right now the Howling Commandos were complete for the first time since 1945. Everything finally felt right to Steve, and it was _good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end.
> 
> This fic is obviously named after John Lennon and Yoko Ono's ["Happy Xmas (War is Over)."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yN4Uu0OlmTg) Which _I know_ isn't period appropriate, OK? I'm kind of partial to [The Used's version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szQk9hdpVw0) though. (Yeah, I used to be one of _those_ kids.)


End file.
